The Knife in the Dark
by Salazarfalcon
Summary: Tony Stark's never been good at leaving well enough alone and he's always wanted to be a mage, and who doesn't have a wish? He'll regret this line of thought when one hinky magic ritual later, he's gotten himself flung head first into the Holy Grail War with someone who goes by Caster. It doesn't help that Caster happens to be a man named Loki who isn't exactly happy with this.


The Knife in the Dark

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Summary: Tony Stark's never been very good at leaving well enough alone and while he's never had a lot of formal training, he's always wanted to be a mage, and who doesn't have a wish they'd like to have granted? He'll regret this line of thought when one hinky magic ritual later, he's gotten himself flung head first into the Holy Grail War with someone who goes by Caster at his side. It doesn't help that Caster happens to be a man named Loki.

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Disclaimer: YEAH, NO. I don't own the Avengers, I most definitely don't own TYPE-MOON.

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AN: Yeah, okay, so biggest author's note _ever_ right here. **Read this**. I am serious. You will probably be supremely confused if you do not.

Point of Interest #1: This is a crossover. I am basically a crazy person and thought that it would be fun to cross the _Fate/stay_ universe over with the _Avengers_, which is how we get this. You shouldn't have to know too much about it to enjoy this, but just don't say I didn't warn you if you come to me whining about how you don't know what's going on.

Let it also be known that I am tweaking the rules of the Fate/stay universe to suit my needs and I am fully aware of what I've gotten 'incorrect', and if it's been changed then it is for a reason. Take it as it is, please, and hopefully enjoy it for what it is.

Also, don't even bother asking me what possessed me to write this.

I don't know.

I won't presume to know and I don't really care. I write for me. If you don't like this, you're welcome to the back button, please and thank you.

Point of Interest #2: This story is an AU. What you think you know about characters, about their back stories and relationships may or may not necessarily be true. This story is not _Thor_-compliant, _Iron Man-_compliant, or _Avengers_-compliant. Don't expect it to be.

Point of Interest #3: This is going to be a long-running series of one-shots that will go in order, but they will be posted separately. I'm not ready to take on another monster fic like **Truthfully **all at once, so even though it will be quite long, I will try and post them in such a way that you don't want to murder me too much, and doing it that way keeps it from being intimidating when I'm working on more than one thing.

This is story one in what is going to be a long line of stories in the series I'm calling **Heart of the Magpie**.

Basically, I want all of you to enjoy this story but more than that, I want _me_ to enjoy this story. I love reading feedback, seeing what you liked, what you disliked, even theories about what you think might happen. I know that many of you are here from **Truthfully**, and that's a real honor for me. I know that so many people loved that story and this is going to be very different.

I'd love if you gave this a chance; please regard me kindly.

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Overarching summary of **Heart of the Magpie:**

Tony Stark's never been very good at leaving well enough alone and while he's never had a lot of formal training, he's always wanted to be a mage, and who doesn't have a wish they'd like to have granted? He'll regret this line of thought when one hinky magic ritual later, he's gotten himself flung head first into the Holy Grail War with someone who goes by Caster at his side. It doesn't help that Caster happens to be a man named Loki who's not particularly happy with being mistaken for a Heroic Spirit and has absolutely no intention of fighting a war for a wish, command seals or no command seals, and he's sure as hell not interested in fighting a war that has nothing to do with him for the sake of a mortal's ego and curiosity.

That's going to change when Jane Foster summons his brother, Thor, and things get personal.

* * *

"Who in damnation are you?" The man asked with aplomb and Tony stared.

He couldn't even fucking _believe_ that that actually worked. Holy shit on a stick. It actually worked. Tony Stark _did magic_. Tony Stark completed a proper, legitimate summoning. Tony Stark was a fucking _prodigy_. Tony Stark was being stared at by one of the tallest men he'd ever seen, a man with lengthy dark hair, eyes so green that he could drown in them, and the most annoyed expression he'd ever seen on any one person in his life.

"I, uh..." he rummaged around for the words that weren't good enough, "I think I summoned you."

The man looked unimpressed.

"You summoned me," he parroted back, voice dry and bland in such a way that he just had to be faking, because it was way too careful and not pissed off enough, "You are a mortal, correct?"

"Last I checked. Tony Stark, at your service."

"And how, exactly, did you manage this? I was unaware that the people of Midgard still practiced the magical arts." The irritation faded, a little bit, to be replaced by something that Tony knew intimately as curiosity. So the guy was interested even if he was ticked off. Sweet.

"Yeah, uh," Tony shrugged, "Found a book, followed the steps. Badda-bing, instant hero."

The man made a strange choking noise.

"W-what? What is this nonsense about heroes?!"

"Theoretically, I'm supposed to have summoned a hero." Tony looked the man in front of him up and down. Pretty face, green and gold and leather everywhere, and if he wasn't mistaken, those were some wicked looking daggers stashed in his belt. This was no hero that Tony'd ever seen, not that he'd met all that many. "What's your name? It's not _actually_ Caster, is it?"

Green-Eyes folded his arms over his chest and his position shifted, defensive and locked-in and unhappy, and Tony looked at the back of his own palm. Three markings stood out bright red on tanned skin, separate yet interlocking. So those were the command seals he'd read about, then. Each one would give him the power to force the man in front of him to carry out an order, any order, be it for him to commit suicide, to kill someone, or get him a drink. Tony had absolutely no intention of asking the first two, and he'd certainly hate to waste a seal on a drink.

To be honest, he'd mostly wanted to know if he could do it.

Tony had never been permitted magical training though as a child he'd shown potential as a mage, and anyone he'd ever found to teach him had been indisposed or unlikely to disobey his father's wishes. So here he was now, and the first magic he'd ever done was to summon a heroic spirit.

Caster, he was supposed to be.

…Could be weirder, honestly. This was nowhere near the strangest thing that Tony'd ever done with his life.

"Come on, then. Out with it," Tony badgered, "A name? I can always call you Spot. Or Blackie."

Caster looked utterly disgusted.

"Spare me your blather," he remarked with a grimace of long suffering, "You may call me Loki."

Tony blinked.

"Loki? Like…god of mischief, Loki?"

Caster—Loki, actually looked somewhat pleased, and if Tony wasn't mistaken, he may have actually preened at the incredulity in his voice.

"A god? That _is_ a new one for me, but I shall take it," he said, and Tony was pleased to see him uncross his arms and relax just the slightest bit. Not a lot, not a ton, and not enough but some, and he could work with that. "Meeting a god, then. Does it impress you?" Instinctively, Tony leered, and in an instant Loki was tense and coiled again.

"Hey, chill. Sorry," he made himself apologize, the words unfamiliar and uncomfortable on his tongue, "That's just kind of what I do. No offense meant, oh Norse god of…" he looked Loki up and down, "April Fool's Day and dark leather."

"What did I do to deserve this?" Loki wondered aloud and rubbed his temples and Tony couldn't help mirroring him just slightly, tracing the intricate red markings on his arm with a steadiness that surprised him.

"Look," Tony said, daring to reach out and tap Loki on the arm to get his attention, "I think we've got a lot to hash out and honestly, I'm not too hot on getting it hashed in a warehouse." There were very few things he actually liked doing in warehouses and none of those things were the kinds of things he wanted to do to Loki. Green eyes stared around the room and Loki admitted as if it pained him,

"I did think it odd, the prospect that you might live here. It would not bode well for our working relationship if you did. I do require _some_ amenities."

Tony barked out a laugh. It seemed like he'd at least resigned himself to the fact that Tony'd summoned him. Whether or not he'd prove cooperative would be another story entirely. Well, he probably wouldn't be and that was alright too, because Tony hadn't summoned him to actually _do_ anything specific, more to prove he could. Which was probably pretty irresponsible, but whatever.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Trust me, you'll be living in luxury. Endless hot water, silk sheets, and an ocean view." Not that Loki would be the only one getting anything out of this. And then for the second time since being summoned, Loki looked intrigued.

"An ocean? You live by the sea?"

"You bet I do. You like it?"

"I do possess some fondness for it, yes," Loki said, his words sounding as pained as Tony's apology, and this time Tony didn't think too hard about clapping him on the shoulder.

"Alrighty, sounds like a plan. Come on, I've got a car waiting."

"A car?" Most definitely interested, Loki followed Tony out of the warehouse, away from the summoning altar, and out into the bright sunshine of California. He blinked for a few moments and then eyed the convertible parked in front. "What is that unholy monstrosity?" Tony grinned and flipped the keys into the air, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver's seat to pat the sun-warmed leather next to him.

"Hop in," and as Loki seated himself next to him, Tony reached over and stretched the belt over his chest to click it into the lock. Loki looked offended (maybe that was just his normal expression? Tony couldn't tell) and he shrugged. "Car doesn't move without one of these." Even Tony Stark could still be pulled over for driving without a seatbelt and like hell he'd be explaining to any California cop why he had a guy decked out head to toe in leather in the summer heat with him. Or to the tabloids, for that matter. He'd had more than his share of that already in his youth, thanks for calling, don't write.

He started the drive and relished in watching Loki jerk a little in surprise as the engine revved and then purred. For the first ten minutes or so Tony drove slowly, because it was actually kind of fun to watch Loki hang his head out the window and watch the scenery go by, the palm trees and the coastline and the people, so many people. Tony watched them too for the first time in years, fat people and people in flip-flops and people like him who had too much money and too much time, sunburned people and people with purse dogs. Loki watched all of them and Tony watched Loki, watched him memorize everything he saw, file every face away for future reference.

It was a look he recognized, that of a scientist, someone who knew how to use his own mind.

And never let it be said that Tony couldn't appreciate _that _just as much as he could appreciate his face.

"Welcome," he said idly, picking up speed, "Welcome to Malibu." And if Tony wasn't mistaken, he thought he actually saw the sides of Loki's lips tilt upwards.

* * *

That car ride was actually the only bright spot in six hours.

Tony'd been all for honesty, had wanted to get everything out in the open. Wanted to explain to command seals, what they did. He was going to next explain that he had absolutely no intention of _using_ those command seals except that Loki hadn't stuck around long enough to listen to his explanation, vanishing out of existence without a single word or a puff of smoke and didn't come back.

The only thing he'd left with was a look of horror on his face.

Tony paced.

Tony worked.

Tony drank.

Tony got extremely annoyed.

There hadn't been a single sighting of him since he'd left. No building being caught on fire, no news stories about a strange leather-bedecked gentleman wreaking havoc and terror, nothing at all. Which was, honestly, a little more annoying than Tony wanted to admit.

Two minutes was all it would have taken to try and settle the matter. Not even two minutes; a minute and thirty seconds. Hell, just thirty seconds.

But no, Tony Stark had to go and lose his newly-summoned Norse god before he even got so much of a chance to see how he looked sprawled atop his guest bed.

With a snort of frustration, Tony turned away from his most recent project and stared skyward. If he believed in any sort of God (not the kinds that looked consistently like they wanted to strangle him with his own vocal cords, anyway), this would be the time to start asking for guidance. Too fucking late now, he supposed.

Except that…

Well, he'd summoned Loki once, he could do it again. Not that he knew how to do much of anything outside the initial summon, but the book had said the servant and the master were connected, and would stay that way until the connection was severed. Theoretically, there must be some way to bring him back, like giving that connection a tug…

Prana, right?

That was the basis of the connection, otherwise Loki'd have no need for him at all. Tug on the prana, tug on Loki. One pissy hero, coming right up.

Idly, Tony tapped one of the command seals on his hand. He didn't want to use it, not at all (it'd be a waste and go against the whole point of what he wanted to say to Loki) but maybe if he could get a feel for how those felt, he could get a feel for that connection and bring him back, hopefully without traumatizing either of them too much.

In the end, it was horrifically simple.

In the end, Tony threw his hands into the air and concentrated on Loki with all of his details, and it was a growled, "Goddamnit, Loki, I need to _talk_ to you," that brought him back, dropped him onto the floor with all the grace of something extremely ungraceful.

The look on Loki's face was different, now. When he'd left the first time he'd been full of rage and bluster and indignation. Those weren't gone but they'd taken backburner to something Tony recognized as fear. A fear of what exactly…that hadn't been said, but it was easy enough to tell. Ignoring the way Loki tensed up at his approach, Tony dropped down to the floor next to him and rolled up his sleeve to show him the seals, all three of them exactly as they'd been.

"Look, I know you're unhappy about this, and I'm sorry. I didn't know that it could—I don't know, that it could bring you here if you were unwilling. I guess I thought there was a little more mystic mojo involved, or something. But—" Loki opened his mouth and Tony barreled right over him, "Nope, you'll get your chance in a second, I'm not done. _But_, what's done is done and I can't take it back. I don't know what happens when the connection breaks, whether you'll die or something, and I don't want that so I don't want to try. But I promise you, unless I absolutely, _absolutely_ have to—and that pretty much narrows it down to saving either my life or yours, I won't use these. I won't make you do anything you don't want to short of something like this, where I need to talk to you." Tony let out a breath, watching Loki eye him warily. He wasn't convinced, not yet, not until Tony proved that he could back up those words. Well, just watch. "You can go where you want, do what you want. Just—don't run off like that.

I'm not here to do anything meaningful. I'm a selfish guy, a giant douche, really," Tony said with all the fact it deserved, "I've got an ego. I wanted to see if I could do it. And I _did_."

And that was the first that Loki looked up to meet his eyes solidly, malachite green boring into brown.

"You are untrained," he said. Not a question, just fact. Tony nodded.

"Extremely."

Loki wrinkled his nose and still looked uncomfortable but a little less out of his depth at least. Tony kept that in mind; he was Caster class, after all, the master of magical arts. Of course he'd be more comfortable talking about something he knew.

"We shall have to fix that."

"_We_?" Tony snorted, "You make it sound like it's your responsibility or something."

Loki glared at him.

"Willing or not, the situation is as it is, and for the time being, I find myself under your…guidance. That being said, I refuse to go around with an untrained clotpole for a master."

"Gee, thanks."

"You ought to be honored," Loki shot back from the floor, somehow managing to look _and_ sound rather regal, "How many people can say that their magical training has been overseen by Loki?"

Not many or, as Tony suspected, any at all.

"So, now that you don't want to rip my throat out," he said idly, noting that Loki's whole posture stiffened with wariness –god, he was testy-, "Tell me about this Holy Grail War…thing. The book was kind of vague about what it was about in the first place."

Loki's face drained of color entirely and Tony was pretty sure that he might have just made the most monumental cock-up in the history of monumental cock-ups.

"You…are unaware of the conditions of the Grail War," Loki stated like he wished desperately that it had been a question.

"Something tells me that this was a bad idea," Tony went for joking but it fell flat as Loki's face darkened. Something in his stomach twisted uncomfortably. This must have been what dogs felt like when an earthquake was coming, because Tony would bet his life's savings that some sort of terrible explosion was imminent.

He wasn't disappointed.

Most people yelled when they were angry, ran hot and wild like a bonfire. Loki…Loki went cold and quiet, still and soft as tundra and just as deceptively safe.

"You summoned me without any idea of what you were getting yourself into. You—you—" For a man who seemed so used to composure, Loki was dangerously close to losing his shit.

"So explain," Tony goaded, hoping that it wouldn't be the poke that made the volcano explode.

Loki's words and face and bearing were tight and wound with…something as he dug his hands into a section of his cape and clenched like he undoubtedly wanted to do to Tony's throat and said, "Every sixty or so of your years for the last several hundred, there has been a competition in the manner of a battle royale in order to decide who would get to use an artifact known as the Holy Grail. The winner of the competition will receive a wish from the Grail, anything they desire. There are seven competitors—seven masters and seven servants, who then fight to the death for possession of the Grail. These masters will come from the most magically powerful families in your mortal world, a family from which you do _not_ come. They will come after you and they will try and kill you."

Tony sat where he was, quiet and shocked and more than a bit horrified.

Fuck.

…_Fuck_.

"Do you understand now?" Loki bit out between his teeth, "This is no game. Did you have any idea that summoning me casts your spear and puts you in the running for the Grail? You cannot escape now; you must fight or die and now you've pulled me in with you, and for what? Your pride? You must fight and you must command, and that is why I cannot trust you when you say you will not do me harm."

"Look, I'm stronger than you think I am. We don't have to fight anyone—"

"You are an imbecile, Tony Stark. There are seven masters, seven servants. Do you think that you may be ignored so easily in favor of another? Do you believe that people will see _you,_ weak and untrained, as someone to ignore rather than the person to remove from the running first? Would you have me roll over and submit like a dog to save your hide?"

"At least a dog does what he's told."

Loki flinched and Tony felt something like guilt settle in his gut and twist. That was a low blow that he shouldn't have taken and he knew it, knew it the second the words were out of his mouth. He wanted— needed Loki as an ally; he was right about at least one thing, and that was that he couldn't do this without him. So Tony swallowed down the sharp remarks and let Loki have his anger, it was his right to it. He hadn't asked for this, he reminded himself, even if he was being a huge jerk about it.

He hadn't asked for it.

"Okay, look," he said and forced himself into calm, "What do I need to do? I'm not going to just let someone come around and kill you. Or me."

Loki glared at him.

"You must build up your reserves, you must learn. The connection between us as it is strengthens you but weakens me. Strengthen it and I will be stronger, and then we might have a chance of victory."

"So you're going to fight?" Tony couldn't help but ask, because he'd just had the mother of all Apple terms of service schticks sprung on him.

"I didn't say that. I've yet to find a suitable reason why I should and you have yet to provide me one. Nevertheless, that is what is necessary."

"I could always make you." The words tumbled from his throat before he could stop them and he wished more than anything that he could take them back.

Loki gave a bitter laugh and stared down at Tony's command seals with derision.

"What part will you play in the end then, I wonder? The fool or the oathbreaker?"

Fuck. Tony'd...Tony'd promised. Fucking promised. And while it wouldn't have been the first or last one he'd break, he wouldn't be convincing the other man of anything anytime soon if he kept giving in and threatening him. Tony knew how it felt to be backed into a corner like that and given no way out, and he needed Loki to do this willingly, to not have to be forced or bullied into every little thing.

They couldn't do anything otherwise.

Tony twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt –idle hands, idle hands, the devil had _nothing _on him- and considered that for a moment, watching Loki watch him right back with an indecipherable look on his face.

Might as well go for broke.

"Loki? The book said that I could only summon someone who had a wish strong enough to be worthy of the grail. What's your wish? What is it that you want badly enough to let this happen?"

Green eyes went wide and stunned.

"That is none of your business. Tell me how you came about that device in your chest."

Touché.

And that was the crossroads, Tony thought. He could push or he could let it go, and he had no idea what he should do. Would anything do any good now, when he'd already pissed off his summon servant more than he thought he ever could? Why'd he even do this in the first place?

Tony took a breath, held it, and then let it go.

"Okay," he said finally, "I won't make you tell me. Keep your secrets, I won't take them from you."

A tendril of the tension wound out of Loki's frame and he sagged a little, curling into himself. Loki looked like Tony felt, which at the moment was mostly beat. Tired. Like he was too tired to fight. Thinking that way would probably be Tony's downfall because if he was right about Loki, the guy would fight until he was dead, but for the meantime all he wanted to do was stop.

"What do you want?" he asked suddenly, extending the olive branch, "I'm richer than God. Name it, it's yours. Unless it's like, a still-beating virgin heart or something, that's never gonna happen—" Tony cut off when a calloused hand clapped over his mouth.

"Tony Stark, I require no virgin hearts today. All I need at the moment is some warm water and a place to rest. If only one of those is available, the latter will suffice and I'll deal with the water myself."

"You're tired?" Tony asked and Loki nursed what appeared to be a tension headache in his temples.

"Your presence is tiring. And frustrating."

"Your mom is tiring—sorry, sorry! It's a habit," Tony protested at the venomous glare Loki was giving him. Okay, rule number two: don't insult his mother. "A very bad habit. A terrible habit."

"I think your life is a terrible habit," Loki grumbled and they both pretended that he didn't flinch when Tony whapped him on the shoulder.

"Probably," Tony agreed with a wise nod, "Anyway, like I said, hot water and silk sheets. In abundance."

He assumed that Loki would likely follow him when he got to his feet and headed up the stairs and he was right, and the next stop was the luxurious bathroom with its tub large enough for about four people, separate shower, and antiqued granite accents, lit from the window by the summer sun. Loki stopped and stared.

"What? Not what you're used to?" Tony quipped, and couldn't help wondering just what Loki _was_ used to, and hoping that he might actually tell him.

"Where I am from, we oft bathe in groups," Loki said distantly and stepped forward to examine the counters, the faucets, "Everything is gilded and bright and the bath sits at least thirty, and it's never empty. To be solitary is frowned upon; bath time is a time for communing with one's fellow warrior." Tony just raised an eyebrow.

_So, verdict then, oh cryptic one?_

"Imagine my surprise, then," Loki continued as if he'd never paused, "To find myself much more taken with something like this." And now that he'd admitted it it was easier to see, in the way he touched with delicacy and the tiniest lines of pleasure that showed up in his face. "This is good taste, Tony Stark."

He was tempted to tell him to thank Pepper instead but decided to take the compliment for himself, inclining his head with a grin. Loki was already flicking the faucets on and adjusting the water temperature, the other hand fiddling at the clasps on his gauntlets, and it was really time for Tony to get going lest this edge into the territory of the inappropriate.

"I'll just leave you to it, then. Come find me when you're done."

Loki waved a hand absently at him as he left, and the door closed.

Tony leaned up against the wall and rubbed his temples, the sound of running water drowning out everything else.

He was so fucked.

* * *

When Loki emerged from the bathroom an hour later, he'd magicked himself into a more casual outfit of drawstring pants and a t-shirt that he must have copied from Tony and his hair was still wet, curling around his neck and shoulders. Tony looked up from where he sat on the couch, tinkering with one of his new robots.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Loki did not feel better if the look on his face was any indicator.

"Tony Stark, we have more to discuss than I thought."

Ho boy.

"Oh? What is it?"

Loki sank to the floor in a butterfly pose, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm tired." He said.

Tony raised a brow.

"Yeah, well, it's been a long day—"

"No," Loki snapped, "I'm _tired_." With a flourish, he raised a hand and with the palm up, summoned a green flame. It flickered briefly and strengthened, flickered again. "I have been a master of magecraft for almost one thousand years—" and Tony would have to ask just how old he was and how that applied to human age, because, _damn_, "My flames do not flicker. A simple conjuring spell does not take my breath. I could—I _have_ done such spells in my sleep."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"It had everything to do with you!" Loki snarled and snuffed out his flame, "You're weak! Weaker than even I thought!" Huh. Tony'd been feeling pretty damn good, actually. "Your shackles have made me reliant on you for some of my power, and you've nothing to give me!" He looked mad enough to spit. "You've reduced me to—to—"

"Whoa, whoa," Tony got up off of the sofa and approached the man on the floor, sitting down across from him not unlike the way he had earlier, "Chill a moment. What are you talking about?"

Loki dragged in a harsh breath and shook his head. Dark hair fell into his eyes but he made no movement to brush it away. He was angry but flush behind the anger was that fear again so potent that Tony could smell it. Worse than that, he could even understand it.

"When you summoned me, you tied me to you. A chunk of my reserves were blocked off so I could draw from you, but there's nothing to take. I am no longer even myself anymore, you've ruined me—"

Okay, now he was just being dramatic. Tony's first mistake was saying that; his second was being in range to be grabbed by the collar, shaken and drawn up to a face twisted in fury.

"You do not understand! A sorcerer is his power. It is not simply a talent; it runs in my veins as much as blood, and you've destroyed it with your stupid, mortal weakness! I am nothing, now."

"Oi, oi, you're not nothing!" Tony snapped, gripping Loki's hands on his collar and untangling them. "We don't know what's going on, so quit with the freakout. I don't—seriously, I'm sorry. If I knew from the start that this would happen, I'd have never tried the summoning." Well, maybe not _quite_. He might have done a bit more research first, definitely.

"I can access my magic, but it _hurts_," Loki admitted grudgingly.

"Because I'm weak."

"Yes."

Loki seethed and Tony kept his hold on his hands, mostly because he wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't be receiving a punch in the face if he let go. This was turning into more of an issue than he thought it would be, getting more tangled, more complicated.

"Okay," Tony said suddenly, the change in his voice getting Loki's attention, "That's that, then. You were going to train me anyway. If I get stronger, you'll be stronger too, and then I'm sure you'll get your power back. You know more about magic –and this whole thing- than I do, does that make sense?" Loki jerked like he was considering breaking his grip but decided against it.

"Theoretically," he replied, "There are ways, of course, to supplement prana exchange, but I would prefer to not explore those options. For you it is merely an issue of training rather than inability. It is unnecessary."

"What are these ways? Wouldn't it be easier to just go with those for now anyway if people are going to be trying to kill me?" Tony egged him on, insatiably curious.

Something in Loki's face twitched, whether in amusement or something else, Tony wasn't sure.

"Prana exchange can be more easily supplemented by sexual contact," Loki said and Tony sputtered a little, an instinct he thought he'd left behind in his debauched youth. Oh, he was definitely amused by this. "Would I be wrong in assuming that you'd prefer to avoid that?"

Tony did his god-graced best to not look Loki up and down and leer, because if he said anything in agreement with that statement, it would be the biggest lie he'd ever told. Loki took his silence as agreement anyway and nodded, apparently satisfied with the lack of answer.

"That's that, then. So help me you _will_ get stronger otherwise I'll force it out of you myself."

And Tony's mind was not going to a terrible place, thank you.

Except that it totally was.

* * *

Dinner consisted of takeaway, curry that Loki had stared at suspiciously until curiosity won out (if Tony knew one thing about scientists, it was that curiosity _always_ won out in the end) and the suspicion was replaced with the kind of food bliss that Tony had forgotten existed.

He was used to plainer and sweeter fair, Loki said in between bites of flavorful curry and naan and a fair amount of Tony's rogan josh. Honeyed meats and boar, plain vegetables, mead by the bucketload, spiced wines and apples.

Tony made a mental note to have him try Thai. There was something endlessly entertaining about being able to introduce someone to new things, even if that someone was an equally endlessly cranky magician.

After dinner, Loki proceeded to drape himself over the couch and fall asleep.

Well, it wasn't exactly languishing atop his guest bed, Tony thought as he spread an afghan out over him, but he'd take it.

* * *

The next morning, Tony was at least a full hour from wakefulness when Loki walked into his bedroom as if he owned it, a candle in his hand.

"The fuck—man, I've got _codes_," he sputtered and Loki ignored him, striding up to approach the bed.

"Those little things? Don't worry about them, they gave me no trouble," Loki brushed aside his complaints and _completely missed the point_. It was with a flourish that he handed over the candle, lighting it with a breath of air that brought forth a green flame.

"…fire near blankets? You're just full of good ideas," Tony muttered and got an offended green glare as a reward for his good sense.

"Don't be ridiculous, not even you're stupid enough to set your own bed on fire," Loki said breezily, "Besides, this is for you." Tony stared down at the candle and back up to Loki, waiting for either the punchline or the part where this might start making sense. "Your task, should you choose to accept it –and you will if you don't want me to feed you your own innards by the end of the day- is to keep this candle lit. It's being fueled by prana and unless it's supplied with more, it _will_ go out. Your job is to keep it lit by finding your reserves, strengthening them, and feeding it. Learn how it feels, learn my signature as well as your own."

That…actually made quite a bit of sense.

Minus, of course, the fact that Loki had still decided that it would be a good idea to hand the guy who was still half asleep a lit candle.

"I think you're crazy."

"And I think you have a death wish," Loki snapped in retaliation, "You want to survive this war? You'll figure it out."

Why couldn't Tony have summoned someone _nice_? Like, he didn't even know, Jive Grandma from _Airplane_, or something? He grumbled a little but nevertheless took the candle, scowling at it. As if on cue, it flicked out. Tony transferred his glare to Loki, who failed entirely at looking like he had nothing to do with it.

"Rude."

"Take this seriously," Loki retorted and relit it.

"How long do I have to do this?" Tony asked.

"As long as I think you need to," the words were mild but firm and Loki swept out the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" Tony hollered after him, juggling his godforsaken candle and his blanket to cover his bits. He didn't have much dignity left at this point but he'd be damned if he was going to go chasing a strange man through his own house buttass naked.

Seconds later, Loki popped his head back in, a shit-eating grin tugging at his lips.

"Your charming butler told me of a shop around the corner that sells something called bagels, I'm going to get some. Don't worry; I've saved you the trouble of liberating your credit card from your wallet. If it's still lit by the time I come back, I might even let you have one!"

And then he was gone and the door slammed and Tony sank back against the wall, hearing only the sounds of an empty house behind him.

"Fuck you, JARVIS, the closest shop is five miles off."

"I did tell him that, sir, but he seemed to think it was no matter."

Tony sighed. He _would_. He fucking would.

"Fuck you too," he told his candle.

* * *

No one had told Tony Stark that this was going to be hard. Seriously, false advertising on that one. _Summon a hero_, the book had said, _Get any wish you want_, it had said. Nothing in there had mentioned getting bossed around by whoever he'd summoned _or_ the possibility of getting killed by someone in the same boat as you.

Still, it wasn't a complete failure, Tony had to admit from his position on the couch, staring so intently at his candle that his head was beginning to hurt. He'd taken a leaf out of his book from last night and examined his command seals in between trying to understand what Loki had meant by understanding his signature. The candle and the seals were the only physical manifestations of prana that he had available and Tony had always been pretty good at improvising, and it was solely because of that that the candle was still lit.

Not as blazing as it had started but lit nonetheless, and Tony had every intention of rubbing it in Loki's face when he got back. If he ever got back, because he'd left two hours ago and hadn't returned.

The asshole was probably sitting in a coffee shop, relishing in the idea that he was making Tony squirm. Or he was eating every last one of the bagels. Or maybe he was lying in a ditch somewhere because he'd been hit by a car, because he was an idiot who thought he was too shiny for the mortal world. Or maybe he'd gotten lost. Or maybe he'd just decided to run off forever and leave Tony holding the bags.

"Loki!" Tony found himself calling out, and a split second later was graced with the undignified thump of Loki falling practically on his head in front of him. "What the hell?"

"Took you long enough," the other man snapped, scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off like a cat that had fallen off the couch.

"What?" Tony sputtered, "You _wanted_ me to call you? Could have said something!"

"I thought you'd summon me when your candle went…out?" Loki trailed off, eyeing the still lit candle sitting in its little dish on the table. "You didn't need me for that?"

"No!" Tony snapped back, "I was _worried_ about you. Remind me not to do that again, you giant douchebag." That was a new look for Loki, all raised eyebrows and softened jaw, and Tony relished in seeing him surprised for a reason that didn't leave him scared, even if _he_ was still annoyed as all hell.

"I…" Loki began, words tentative and uncomfortable, "I apologize. It was not my intention to make you worry. I was under the assumption that you would call for me when your flame went out, and then when you didn't, I got distracted by the city. It is a fascinating place." There was a rustle, and Tony found a bag being thrust into his arms, still warm somehow. "Here."

Tony opened it and—yes, six or seven cinnamon crunch bagels, score! It was far too tempting to not eat one immediately, especially while Loki appeared to be distracted by the candle he'd left.

"It didn't go out."

"No kidding, genius," Tony told him, mouth full of bagel. "No thanks to you. You've got a hell of a magic flame, though…what?" Loki's face said otherwise. "Come on, you look like I fed you a frog. What's up?"

"This is not mine," Loki answered finally, "This exercise was meant to teach you to supplement prana, not to the point that you could—" he cut off and checked it over again.

"Speak English, would you?"

Loki glowered.

"Put into Monkey for the simple," he grumbled, "I set you up to fail. I allowed it to last for exactly twenty-seven minutes before snuffing it out completely. It was then supposed to go out, leaving you with no choice but to call me." Well, that was nice. Too bad it made no sense whatsoever. Loki sighed. "That means that for the last hour and forty minutes, you have been supplying it directly from your own stores with no aid from me."

"That's good, right?" Tony asked, and Loki sighed, snaking a hand into the bag to grab a bagel.

"While it pains me to admit it, yes, that's good. Very good," Loki would be a bit more convincing if he didn't look legitimately intrigued by the whole thing. Scientist to the core, Tony remembered. "You've replaced it entirely…"

"Yeah, but it's still so _small_," Tony grumbled, and Loki's hand twitched like he was fighting the urge to reach out and smack him.

"You—" he muttered incoherently under his breath for a few moments, "This is not about power, it is about _control_." Loki said firmly. "You have the power; I'd know if you didn't." _And then murder you_, he didn't say even though it was strongly implied. "But you do not have control over that power, and that is what this was for. Anyone can shove all their prana into something all at once…but doing that would likely have leveled your house." Tony gaped. "Control is much more important."

"You are such an asshole," was all he could say when he got over the fact that Loki had actually _praised_ him for something.

"I'm rubber and you're glue," Loki shot back, voice light and dangerously close to teasing, and Tony just stared because he hadn't heard anyone –anyone!- say that since he himself was in the second grade, and it made him wonder just how much Loki knew about this world, which made him in turn wonder about where Loki himself was from, what his life was like. It was clear enough that he wasn't just some kind of ghost of spectre that was hanging around and waiting to be needed; he clearly had his own life, his own goals. He even had a family, judging by how offended he got at the crack last night about his mother.

Tony snorted and flopped back down on the couch, the same couch that Loki had slept on last night.

There was still so much he'd yet to think about, like the fact that he'd accidentally gotten himself wrapped up in a war that could literally get him killed. That he now had someone relying on him magically, when he'd never done a single spell before yesterday. That said person was on his third bagel and Tony was still halfway through his first.

When Loki made a motion toward the bag again, Tony clutched it close and swatted his hands away.

"Not a chance, get your own."

"Those _are_ my own."

"Yeah, with _my _money," Tony quipped back, giving him another swat and turned his back. "Mine now."

Loki scowled but sat on the couch, picking up Tony's candle and stoking the flame with an idleness that made Tony jealous, because he'd had to sit there the whole time and concentrate with everything he had to just keep it lit, and here was this guy who didn't even have to think about what he was doing—

"How old are you?" Tony found himself asking suddenly. Loki raised his brows and flexed his fingers.

"I am approximately two thousand of your years."

"And that means?" Because what did two thousand years mean to someone who might only live to a hundred, tops? Loki sighed.

"I was the youngest ever to receive a mastery in my craft at the age of one thousand and twelve…" he mused, trying to find a suitable commonality between them, clearly seeing the same issue that Tony was.

"I guess I couldn't ask you how old you have to be to buy porn," and Loki stared in a way that made Tony preen with satisfaction, "How old do you have to be to join the army?" Green eyes blinked and Loki pondered the matter.

"It depends. For my station," what station that was he didn't elaborate, "I was involved in military affairs at one thousand. To enlist properly, you must be at least one thousand and seven-hundred and fifty."

….Fuck.

Two thousand years old or no, that was equivalent of like, twenty. Ish, give or take a century. That meant that to make his mastery (which needed no explanation), he'd been about twelve. Youngest master ever at the age of twelve, that sounded…almost horrifically familiar to Tony. Tony and his two masters degrees from MIT at the nineteen could relate.

And from there, shockingly, the conversation was easy.

Tony found out that Loki was a prince –seriously, a fucking prince! It explained the ego, though- from a place called Asgard, which he'd learned about in one of his electives in high school and promptly forgot about, and he would have to fix that. In return, he told Loki about what he did, about robotics and technology, a subject that had Loki interested and curious, and Tony knew that he'd probably be getting talked out of one of his laptops soon if the way green eyes gleamed with fascination were any indication.

Well, it was no bother. Tony had little use for fools but he was all about sharing the love, especially when it was a love of the sort of things he ate, slept, and breathed.

Loki told him about magic and in exchange, he talked for a good while about the technology that burned blue in his chest, not necessarily where it had come from or how it had gotten there because Loki didn't ask and Tony didn't want to tell him, but about how it worked and what it did, and he was rewarded with engaging questions from someone who could only have been paying attention to him.

Loki was actually pleasant company when he wasn't aggravated about something, with the sort of quick, caustic wit that Tony could appreciate, especially when it wasn't sharpened with rage or frustration, and it was so rare to find someone who could actually keep up with the twists and turns of his mind. Not only could he keep up, he was _interested_. Loki wanted to know everything, and Tony wanted to ask him if he knew how it felt to know too much, when his brain was stuffed to bursting and ripping at the seams and he still wanted _more_. There was a greediness to it that Tony had always had and he wondered how close he'd need to be to him to actually get an answer to that question.

Loki was a veritable paint swatch of irritation but every once in a while, he'd show something different. A funny furrow of his eyebrows, a flash of sadness, and even once in a while, a tilting of his lips and a crinkling in the corners of his eyes that couldn't mean anything but a held-back smile. Tony felt like he was being handed crumbs when he wanted the whole loaf, and he cursed himself more than once for being a shameless pigeon.

* * *

An evening later, the two of them were sitting in the living room, Loki playing with his shiny new laptop that he'd pilfered from the lab and Tony cursing his _and_ that candle's existence when Loki's head raised like a dog pricking up its ears.

"What's up?" he asked.

Loki's voice was distant and vaguely curious as he said, "Is this training doing absolutely nothing for you? _Feel_. You are a moron but you are also a master; there is someone calling us."

Tony focused and yeah, now that he fixed on it, he could feel something funny tingling in the back of his mind. Loki was already getting to his feet now.

"Who is it?"

"If I knew, I would have said something."

"No, you wouldn't. You'd have held it over my head until I figured it out myself," Tony grumbled back and received a pleased and almost flattered tilt of the head for his troubles, which he supposed was an okay reward.

"I shall try to be less predictable in the future," he promised with a flourish that made Tony want to shake his fist at the sky, "Now, let's go."

"Who said we were going anywhere? I make appointments with people; people don't make appointments with me."

Loki examined his nails.

"If," he replied delicately, "You would prefer that they get impatient and come here, possibly destroying your lovely home in the process, I strongly suggest we do them the honor of showing up. If you do not go to them, they _will_ come here. Besides, aren't you at least," he drew the word out, "_Curious_? Even just a little bit?"

Oh, fuck him.

Seriously.

Loki's affronted expression told Tony that he'd said this aloud but he couldn't bring himself to care too much, snuffing out the candle and getting to his feet.

"Oh, fine," he said, "Let's go, then." He flipped his keys in the air and enjoyed the jingle they made as they came down.

"There is no need, I can—"

"That's what happens when you're rude and start demanding things," Tony interrupted, "You get to wait. Unless you're me, of course." Loki harrumphed. "Besides, you've only gotten to ride in my baby once." He jangled his keys tantalizingly and headed for the door, assuming that the other man was going to follow him…

No footsteps came.

Tony stared behind him, into the room he'd just left. It was empty.

"Loki?" he called.

No answer.

Tony kept walking towards the garage and didn't look back until he reached the Acura… and he couldn't even be surprised to see Loki already seated, buckled in and looking for all the world like he'd been waiting forever.

"Took you long enough."

"Says the guy who thinks himself above giving a little warning before he makes with the hocus pocus," Tony replied and started the car. "You're going to have to tell me where we're going, by the way. I'm a special snowflake but I don't think anyone's quite that special." Loki had been hard-pressed to admit that even he'd been surprised by the way Tony had picked up the concepts and strategies that took most others years but if he was expecting Tony to track this himself, he had another thing coming to him.

They didn't discuss what exactly they were going to do when they got there, for Loki had said little about whether his willingness to do battle ever since that first night when he'd made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with this whole situation and honestly, Tony didn't blame him. He could well be walking into a death trap but better a death trap away from his house than a death trap in his living room. He spent good money on that house and there was no way it was getting leveled on his watch.

Oh, Loki was saying something.

"I trust you'll keep your head when speaking—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony interrupted, nearly swerving off the road, "Calm your magic tits a second. What the hell are _you_ going to be doing this whole time? If you're not going to be helpful, then why am I even in this car?"

"You were the one who insisted upon driving."

Had his hands not been on the wheel, Tony would have flung them into the air. As it was, he may have done so anyway.

"You just told me to enjoy my death wish!"

"I never said anything about a death wish. Merely that you might want to take the diplomatic route."

That asshole. That manipulative, conniving, Norse asshole.

Tony snarled at the road.

"You don't trust me," he said eventually, glaring hard at the road so that he wouldn't turn and glare hard at Loki, "You don't trust me to do what I said about not using my seals to make you do what I want. That's why you're being such a dick about this." Though honestly, he still wasn't sure whether the sheer amount of dick was just his personality or a defense mechanism. He supposed it didn't really matter. "I told you before and I'll fucking tell you again, unless it means either of us dying, I'm not using those seals on you. I don't care what sort of crap you try and pull on me to make me a liar."

"You cannot promise that," Loki said quietly, all loftiness gone from his tone.

"You…you stupid moron," Tony grumbled, "Ever hear of a self-fulfilling prophecy?" Loki didn't reply and Tony satisfied himself with muttering unflattering things about him the entire way. "Well, we're already on the way and if I can sense him, he can sense me, right?"

"Undoubtedly," Loki said, implying that if _Tony_ could sense another master, it was like a neon sign to about everyone else.

Asshole.

"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"You can barely handle making your own brew in the morning."

"Even the flawless have at least one fault." Tony ignored Withering Stare #17 and focused on the road and for the next while, the only words spoken were Loki's directions.

* * *

There was a dude sitting in a clearing in the middle of nowhere and the first thing Tony could think was, _oh, hell_.

All blue, big white star on his chest, great jawline, perfectly coiffed blonde hair…

Oh, _hell_.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tony couldn't hold back when he walked into the clearing and the man looked up, blue eyes serious.

"I don't believe I was kidding anyone."

Oh, someone was a funny man. Except that _someone_ was also not joking. Tony looked the guy up and down.

"No one told me that Captain America was a killjoy."

"No one told me that Howard Stark's son was a ninny."

Tony stopped where he stood, the joke on his face dripping off like wet paint. Nothing like the words _Howard Stark_ to get rid of the birds and violins of a good mood. Well, the good mood he'd had until Loki tried to get him killed and—

And apparently abandoned him, because Tony was standing there by himself. There was no Loki to be seen; not in the car, not next to him, behind him, or even in a tree. It figured. Tony sighed.

"So, what? How's this going to go?" he asked, watching the Cap get to his feet and dust himself off. He approached, then, sticking out his hand.

"Steve Rogers," Captain America said, "And you're Tony Stark."

Warily, Tony shook the hand anyway despite his misgivings and the fact that the only person who stood a chance between him and death had apparently flown the coop. Douche.

"…yes?"

Steve averted his eyes, looking uncomfortable.

"And I'm really sorry."

"For what—"

Tony found out exactly for what when a fist came flying at his face, a blow that sent him reeling backwards until he came to a stop on the ground about ten feet away.

"_Ow_, what the hell was that for?" He sputtered and sat up, rubbing at his jaw. That was going to bruise, later, it'd definitely bruise, and the world would get to see Tony Stark not for the first time in purple.

"I said I was sorry," Steve said, and _fuck him_, he actually looked sorry, "I've got my orders. I would suggest that you summon your servant." Tony snorted.

"Yeah, that's a good one," he said, staggering to his feet and scowling, "Servant implies that he does what he's told. Who's giving you _your_ orders, buddy?"

"None of your business," Steve pulled out a shield that Tony once had plastered all over his bedroom walls, because what kid didn't idolize Captain America? At least until he realized that he'd lost out to said Captain even in his father's eyes, anyway. "I don't want to hurt you, even if you are annoying. I'm not after you. Summon your servant."

There was a flash of green and gold in the corner of Tony's eye and he looked up.

Perched in one of the trees behind Steve was Loki, languishing like he had nothing better to do than watch Tony get pummeled by his former hero. Tony knew exactly what he was waiting for, looking for. He wanted to see how far it would get before he broke his promise and used one of the scarlet command seals written on his hand.

He wasn't just looking for it, he was _waiting_ for it. Like he knew better than Tony what he could do or what he could take.

To hell with him, too.

Tony ducked when the shield came his way, missing his head by inches.

Some magic would be seriously nice right about now, he thought, scrabbling backwards through the leaves and sticks like a crab, flinging himself around a tree to avoid a smack that didn't miss entirely, catching him in the shoulder and sending a pain like an earthquake up and out.

"Motherfu—would you stop that?! Not all of us have snazzy magic shields!" he hollered, flipping his middle finger and making a break for it when Steve stared at him, scandalized, and then took aim again. It hit this time, cracking him in the chest and consequently cracking a few of his ribs too; Tony felt something clench and stab with every breath.

"Are you even trying?" Steve demanded from where he stood and Tony huffed at him, unable to keep from glancing around to try and find Loki.

Gone again.

It didn't matter how many times he said it, Loki wouldn't believe him until he could back it up, and Tony Stark had meant what he said. Unless his life depended on it, Loki would come by his own will or not at all, and Tony could take a lot more than just a couple of hits with a shield.

Looked like he was on his own.

Wouldn't be the first time, though, and Tony scoured the landscape for something, anything he could use. The sticks were all far too flimsy, there weren't any rocks, and both his magic and his summon were AWOL. Tony dropped to the ground and clenched his hands into the dirt, and when Steve came closer it was with extreme prejudice that he flung a fistful of dirt and sand into his eyes, forcing him to reel back and giving Tony the chance to put some distance in between them.

A perfect hit, too!

"I never agreed to this!" Tony snapped, backing away all the while Steve was rubbing ferociously at his eyes, "No one said anything about this!"

"What did you think this was?" An unfamiliar voice rang out and Steve stopped as Tony glanced around. He couldn't see anyone but he was definitely there, _somewhere_. "A game, Tony Stark, the likes of which you play in your lab and skyscrapers?" There was a chuckle. "It's a game alright, but not one that you've ever played."

That was just annoying.

"Get out here and show yourself!"

"I don't think I will. Captain, if you would."

Steve approached, hefting his shield.

"I'm really…I really am sorry about this." He raised it high about his head and Tony wheezed and it came down, and then sliced through nothing but air.

Tony found himself muscled away with a protective arm around his throat and seconds later faced a tall, extremely angry back bedecked in leather and trappings of gold. Did he mention angry? There was a lot of rage in there and Loki practically vibrated with it, crackles of green and blue sparking between his hands like lightning.

"If you would," Loki snarled, and wow, this was surreal and maybe just a tiny bit insulting, "I would appreciate it if you didn't touch what belongs to me."

"And the wayward servant shows himself at last," the voice said and Loki stared directly at a spot on a branch to the right as if there was never any question of where it had come from. "Who are you, then, Caster?"

Loki didn't bother with a response, just straightened up to his full height and curled his lip, the picture of disdain despite the tension that Tony could practically touch in him.

Steve shifted and that was enough, green fire smoked out around them like a brushfire, licking at Steve's clothes and forcing him to back away, snaking up trees to char them black.

"Go," the voice said and Loki flung out a hand to send Steve flying before he could take a single step –god, it was awesome to see someone _else_ flying- and then went after him. A set of curved and wicked daggers appeared in his hands and it was with a clang that steel met steel, tall and furious meeting in turn with gold and sunlight.

Steve doubled back and Loki didn't let up for a moment, alternating blade with magic at every turn and keeping him on his toes.

"I've had enough of you!" Loki growled and lashed out with a tidal wave of magic, letting it crash down on their heads. Tony flinched—except that he didn't need to. A shimmering white shield crackled over his head and Steve lost his footing, dropping to the ground and slamming up against a tree trunk. He scrabbled backwards but found himself pinned to bark with ropes of light and those daggers came down—

"That's enough, Lancer. Withdraw."

And then nothing.

Steve gave a quick, relieved sigh and blinked out in a flash of nothing. Loki let out a low, frustrated noise and buried his blade in the tree, slicing through it with a fury that Tony thought just slightly excessive.

"Show yourself!" he demanded.

"So you can try and do the same to me as you did to the Captain? No thank you. Still…" the voice paused as if thinking, "I am surprised. I wouldn't have expected two of you to show up in the same war."

Loki twitched.

"Two? Two of what?"

Silence, and then,

"Oh, just a man who reminded me a bit of you is all. Blonde, hulking, throwing a giant hammer around…" Loki was doing a fantastic impression of a statue right then, all stony sides and sharp edges, still looming over the tree like Steve would show up again and let him rip him limb from limb. Tony considered approaching him but decided against it, decided to wait until this had reached its conclusion. Hopefully, there would be time later to talk, time for conversations that desperately needed to happen if they wanted to live through this. "Still, no matter. We'll speak again later. I'll see you around, Tony Stark."

And within the second, the funny buzz in the back of Tony's head evaporated and he knew that whoever had been there really was gone, at least for the time being.

Loki remained where he was, stiff and furious and something else that Tony couldn't put his finger on and it was with a tiny hope that maybe he wouldn't maul him that Tony stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around a tense, quivering upper arm.

And Loki staggered like he'd been thrown into a building, catching himself a moment later and drawing himself back up. His breaths were heaving like he'd run a marathon and his face was ash grey.

"You okay?" Tony asked through the pain in his ribs even though he knew the answer without actually needing to ask the question.

"I…" he forced out, "It is nothing. It's fine. It is merely—"

"Merely nothing," Tony demanded, "You're about to keel over." Loki didn't answer, just focused on breathing. "Oh, god. This is totally something you're doing, isn't it? What are you doing?"

"Would _you_ like to be the one on the verge of fainting?" Loki snapped, breathless and pale, "I can always arrange that. If instinct had its way, you'd be drained dry and it would be up to me to drive your vehicle home." He supposed that it was a good thing that Loki would even put that it into the equation even though, if he left it, Tony would never have let him forget it. This time it was Tony's turn to not reply, choosing instead to sling one of Loki's arms over his shoulders and begin the trek back to the car, ignoring the nearly perpetual grumbling.

The ride would do them both good, probably.

Hopefully, anyway, and at the very least it would do Tony good, which was a start. For such a skinny dude, the guy was _heavy_ and Loki wasn't exactly making this an easy trip, what with being taller and longer and just generally being not the kind of person that Tony Stark hauled around on a regular basis.

Luckily it wasn't a long walk –thank god, thank god, thank god- and it was with a sigh of relief that Tony deposited the taller man into the passenger side of the Acura. Loki let out a low whine and draped himself out the window.

They were both silent as Tony started the car with a hiss of pain that stemmed from his likely-dislocated shoulder down to his ribs, and Loki barely looked at him as he gritted his teeth and there was a glow of magic that rubbed up against him like a cat and the pain dissipated like a rainstorm in sunshine.

Loki sagged and went limp.

"You idiot, quit that!" Tony snapped at him, "You're going to kill yourself or something and then where am I left? I'd have been fine."

"Don't be so ungrateful," Loki muttered in reply, barely heard over the crunching of forest leaves underneath the wheels, "I could have just let them for your mortal doctors to deal with. You lot heal slowly, but I suppose that you prefer excruciating pain."

"This has nothing to do with me being mortal," Tony snapped, "So just quit it." The car fell into silence and he flicked a quick glance to Loki still hanging out the window, made to drive slower so he didn't get windburn or anything. Could guys like Loki get windburn? "You, uh, wanna explain that, then?" Loki whuffed and dragged himself back into the car properly and it was with a flick of Tony's finger that the seat was reclining backwards amidst Loki's startled noise.

"No."

"Come on, please? I thought you were going to leave me to die, I'm pretty sure you owe me something."

"I owe you six broken ribs back is what I owe you."

Oh, super. Not just cracked, then. That would have just been lovely.

"Then just…tell me because I want to know?" Maybe swinging the question out of altruism and into the greedy curiosity of the scholar would get a better reaction, because along with everything else, Tony _did_ want to know. He practically burned with it, because Loki could have just left him there and he didn't, had stepped in, had nearly torn apart _Captain America_ on his behalf. Because it couldn't have been for anything other than Tony's behalf, not when he could have continued to sit there and make his life easier.

Oh, it would have been easier. Let Tony get his ass handed to him and then if he was lucky, the contract would sever, easy-peasy, one get out of jail free card for the local Norse god.

"Make the seat go back further and I shall consider it."

Tony obliged with a snort and kept driving. Whose idea was it anyway, to have a…whatever they just had in a forest? He'd be picking leaves out of his baby for days after this. He waited, then, waited and waited, and Loki didn't make so much as a peep until they were well out of the forest and flying along the stretch of asphalt.

"You didn't call for me." he said, finally.

"Nope."

"You should have."

Brown eyes met green and Tony knew he'd never seen that look before, a combination of uncomfortable and hurt and pleased that he couldn't quite keep up with. Complicated bastard.

"And what good would that have done? I'm trying to _get along with you_ and I think the major problem is that you don't trust me to do what I say I will. I said I wouldn't force you and I meant it, and I don't think that they were aiming to kill me, anyway. Freak me out a little, see what I was made of maybe. Poor Captain looked like he was going to cry." Tony chuckled but Loki didn't, just shifted on the seat to stare at the clouds going by overhead. Well, okay then. "It's fine if you want nothing to do with this. _I_ want nothing to do with this; I can make my own damn wishes."

"I should not have allowed them to injure you," Loki spoke up after a time of silence, "It was unjustified and excessively vindictive. You are fragile and untrained."

Well, Tony couldn't disagree with that one, not really, not when he still had the memory of agony shooting up and down his spine that reminded him far too much of Afghanistan.

"Yeah, but you fixed it. So we're cool."

Loki didn't look entirely happy with that, which was annoying. Did he have any idea how many people would have loved to be cool with Tony Stark? The list was long, but he supposed that he'd never thought to put someone out of mythology on it anyway.

It was a while before Loki spoke again, voice low and troubled.

"I will fight this war with you," he said and ignored the jerk of the car when it nearly swerved out of the lane.

"That's a hell of a change of heart," Tony sputtered and tried to look him in the face, made difficult by the way that Loki wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Am I not allowed to do that?"

"You are, no complaints from me. It's just…kinda sudden, don't you think? Considering that oh, I don't know, about a half hour ago you were pretty freaking determined to wipe your hands of it _and_ me." Let it not be said that Tony Stark didn't carry a grudge. Mind change or not, he still wasn't going to forget that Loki had sat in a tree and watched Captain America clobber him stupid.

"I will fight this war with you and secure your victory," Loki repeated, "There is something that I want."

Tony wondered if it had to do with what Mr. Mysterious Disembodied Voice had said before leaving, about someone _else_, about something that made dynamic, shifting Loki freeze up and still. God of lies, Tony remembered from that same class that he'd forgotten everything about Asgard. Of fire and the hearth too, if Tony remembered anything. Loki was the crazy one in normalcy, the sane one in madness, the game-changer in nearly every legend he'd read.

The contradictions suited him somehow.

Tony didn't know how much of the mythology was real or fake and he was pretty sure that at some point he'd be asking about the horse and possibly dodging a punch, but he didn't need legend to know that implicitly trusting the man next to him was the stupidest idea since…well, it might have just been the stupidest idea period.

Really, really stupid.

No one had ever been able to call Tony Stark stupid, not since he'd lain in the cradle, but most everyone could have called him a reckless idiot. Many already had, Pepper just the start of a very long list.

So Tony just nodded, accepting Loki's proposition with the confidence of one who really had no idea of what he was getting into, and continued driving home.

* * *

At some point during the drive Loki passed out and it was, once again, up to Tony to drag his unhelpful and entirely too lanky ass up into the house.

Should he call a doctor? Would any doctor even know how to deal with this? Would someone examine him and think, _Tony Stark's harboring a Norse god in his house, better call the presses_? That was unlikely but even the unlikely could still happen and Tony figured that he'd better not. He didn't think Loki was dying, anyway. He was still breathing, just asleep.

Or unconscious.

It could be hard to tell the difference, especially considering that Tony Stark spent a good deal of his time either sleeping or unconscious, much to Pepper's dismay.

"You can just hang out there, then," he told Loki, and lamented the fact that he finally got to see Loki on silk sheets and the guy was asleep.

It figured.

Tony considered going downstairs to work in the lab (and possibly come up with something that could take out another mage) but chose instead to park himself next to the bed, that cursed candle in his hands.

"Be grateful," he told Loki even though he was pretty sure the guy couldn't hear him. He focused and the wick lit in a shade too red to be quite natural, a small flame of prana that flickered more every second and Tony felt suddenly like he hadn't slept in days while Loki shifted on his own for the first time since dropping off. "Be. Fucking. Grateful." There had to be an easier way to do this.

It wasn't about power, Loki had said. It was about control, and right now Tony had to keep that control to channel power into the flame and from there channel it a step further into Loki, feeding him the drops and chunks of magic he dredged up. The achiness and exhaustion intensified the longer he kept it up and Tony shook his head.

God, how did people do this all the time?

Tony guessed it was different when you'd grown up being able to do it, being encouraged to try and learn things like that, but even though he'd known he'd had some form of ability since he was quite young, there'd been no guidance. No one to teach, no one who could show Tony what he could do with the power he knew he had in spades. And now, here was someone who could and had without being asked.

Like hell he was letting that go anytime soon.

The sheets rustled and Loki rolled over to blink hazy and unfocused green eyes.

"Stark?"

"Quiet, you," Tony told him, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing and I have no idea whether I can make you explode if I do this wrong."

Loki gave a quiet, whuffing sigh.

"It will be a sad day when any mortal might make me explode," he muttered, still looking dazed and sleepy, like he'd been given too much Nyquil. "Feels good."

"Yeah?" Tony couldn't help but ask. Loki nodded and let his eyes fall shut again, curling up on his side.

"Yes. It has been a while since I have needed to be fed magic, longer still since anyone has willingly given it. It feels good."

Well, fuck. If that wasn't the most frighteningly honest that Loki had been since Tony had met him, he'd eat Dummy. So Tony ignored the backache and the impending migraine that he could see coming a mile away and the way this was still so fucking surreal, just sat and focused until color came back to Loki's face and he looked more like he was sleeping and less like he was protecting himself.

And so help him he kept that candle lit.

* * *

AN2: Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, hated this, whatever, please leave me a review and let me know! I'd love to hear what you thought.


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